Lucy Mill Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Breda

Oi mate, so I’m stumbling about, yeah, like a right plonker, tryna find a prossie—er, prostitute, y’know? Me, Mr. Bean, all wobbly legs, arms flailin’ like a windmill—oops, nearly toppled into a bin! *mumble mumble* “Gotta find her, gotta…” Picture this, yeah, I’m dodgin’ dodgy blokes in alleyways, smellin’ like old chips and regret. Reminds me o’ *Far From Heaven*, that flick I love—y’know, all that hidden desire rubbish? Cathy in her posh frocks, sneakin’ about, wantin’ what she can’t have. Me? I’m wantin’ a prossie, but I’m rubbish at this!

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

First off, I’m running late. Classic me. I sprint down the Kerkstraat, dodging cyclists like I’m in some kind of video game. I swear, these Dutch folks are born on bikes. Anyway, I finally get to my shop, and guess what? The coffee machine’s broken. Ugh! I need my caffeine fix, or I’m basically a zombie.

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